Dakini
by kage kitsune 14
Summary: Fem! Alex. Alex Rider's life is thrown into turmoil when her uncle dies and she inherits his last deadly mission. Forced to play by MI6's rules she is forced to cut her hair into a bob and made to pretend to be a boy as she suits up for her first mission. With so many things stacked against her, will she be able to complete her mission and save the day in time?
1. Funeral Voices

**A/N: For anyone who wants to know: The title is based on a tantric deity described as the female embodiment of enlightened energy. Look it up on Wikipedia to learn more. If you have any better ideas for the title I might change it.**

Chapter One: Funneral Voices

When the door bell rings at three am, it's never good news.

Alexandria "Alex" Rider woke up at the first chime. She didn't move for a moment as she stared up at her bare ceiling. She heard her housekeeper, Jack Starbright (who was, in fact, a woman despite being called Jack), walk down the hall and stairs. The floor creaked slightly under her weight. She heard the sound of the security chain being taken off the door.

Alex got up and walked to the window, her bare feet pressing down on the dark blue carpet lightly, creating soft indents that disappeared moments after she lifted them. Moonlight shined across her pale lavender night dress and gave her an ethereal look. She was fourteen, lithely muscled, like an athlete or a dancer. Her fair hair, cut to shoulder length, was layered, the shortest part being her bangs that swept across her forehead haphazardly. Her eyes were the color of melted Hershey's chocolate but held a seriousness that most teenagers didn't have.

For a short time she stood motionless, half hidden in shadow as she looked out the window. There was a police car parked outside. She could make out the ID number on the roof. Alex saw the porch light go on and the door being opened and eavesdropped on the conversation that followed.

"Mrs. Rider?" One of the cops asked.

"No. I'm the housekeeper. Why? What's happened?" She demanded.

"This is the home of Mr. Ian Rider?" The cop persisted.

"Yes."

"May we come in?" The other cop asked.

And Alex knew. She knew by the body language of the cops, how they stood stiff and unhappy, occasionally shifting their weight backwards, as if to back away, before making themselves stand straight again. But she also knew because of their voices. Funeral voices... that's what she would describe them as later. The kind of voice that they used to tell you someone close to you has died.

She quietly paced over to her door and opened it a bit so the voices from downstairs could float up but the door wasn't noticeably open from the hall.

"A car accident...called the ambulance...intensive care...nothing anyone could do...so sorry."

It was only hours later,sitting at the kitchen table, watching the gray light of morning fade as the sun came up, that she tried to make sense out of what had happened. Her uncle - Ian Rider - was dead. Driving home his car had been hit with a truck at Old Street roundabout and he had been killed almost instantly. The police said he hadn't been wearing his seat belt, that if he had, he might be alive.

But that was impossible. It didn't make any sense whatsoever. Ian was a firm believer in learning from one's mistakes, the only exception to this rule was seat belt safety. He stressed seat belt safety almost obsessively. It was impossible for him to have been killed from forgetting to wear one.

Alex thought about the man who was her only relative for as long as she could remember. She had never known her parents, they had died in a plane crash when she was only a few weeks old. She had been raised by her father's brother (never "uncle" - Ian Rider hated that term.) and had spent her life in that same terraced house in Chelsea, London, between King's Road and the river.

Except for the various vacations to various nations, of course. She had spent a year in Spain, France, and Germany, each. Six months in Italy, and another six months in Russia. And about three months in Japan. They hadn't just been relations, they had been friends. She remembered sky diving, scuba diving, skiing, and even white water kayaking. It was nearly impossible to comprehend that she would never again see her uncle, hear his laughter or twist his arm to get help with her science homework.

She took a deep shuddering breath, suddenly fighting back tears that she refused to let fall. What saddened her most though, was the sudden realization- too late now- that she didn't really know her uncle all that well.

He was a banker. People told her she looked slightly like him, same hair and facial structure. He was always traveling. He was a quiet, private man who liked good wine, classical music, and books. Who had never had a girlfriend as far as she knew, or any friends at all in fact. He had kept himself in shape, never drank, never smoked, and never took any unneeded substances. He had also dressed expensively. That wasn't much, a thumb nail sketch instead of a portrait.

"Alex? Are you alright?" Jack Starbright asked. She was a young woman, in her mid to late twenties. She had come to the UK for an education (from Washington D.C.) and stayed after getting a job as a housekeeper when Alex was 7. She had red hair and boyish face.

"Not really." She admitted. "What will happen now?" She asked turning to look at her closest female friend.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked taking a seat across from Alex.

"To us? To the house? Now that Ian's gone, I mean." She asked and explained at Jack's confused look.

"I'd imagined he left a will. You know how careful he was." Jack stated unnecessarily.

"Yeah. I don't believe that whole seat belt thing." Alex observed. "He wouldn't even drive me around the block if I didn't have mine on." Alex stated.

Jack nodded in understanding. "I know it's hard to believe. But why would the police lie about something like that?" She asked.

'Why indeed' Alex thought ruefully; police were human too, they could lie about as well as any other human.

Alex shrugged her shoulders and went about getting herself ready. People would be coming over soon. To arrange the funeral, to give consonances, and to just be generally annoying.

She took the stairs two at a time, unable to calm down enough to take them slowly. She dug through her drawers and grabbed undergarments, a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, and a scoop necked dark green t-shirt. Then she hurried across the hall to the bathroom. She looked in the mirror, seeing dark circles under her eyes from the sleepless night she had since she found out her uncle died. Her hair hung limply around her childish boy-like face.

Jack had once told her that if she cut her hair to a bob she could pass as a teenage boy. She shuddered at the thought. Her hair was the only girly thing about her, well besides her favorite sport. Alex was on the Chelsea All Girls Gymnastics team. She also did other sports, but they weren't all that girly. She was a black-belt in Karate, and she was also proficient in Judo. Her uncle had signed her up for those classes when she was six, "so my precious niece can take care of herself." were his exact words. She also ran track and played an odd game of football- or soccer, as Jack called it- with her best male friend Tom Harris.

Tom Harris was short for his age, about 4'11'' and was Alex's best friend. He had black hair and blue eyes which gave him an adorable-little-angel look when combined with his height. It also gave him a look of vulnerability, which was how he and Alex had become friends. Alex had found Tom wiping blood from his noise and picking up his tattered school books from the sidewalk one day. After inquiring about Tom's health she asked if it was Mike Cook, which it had been. She then said she would have a talk with him. Tom had thought it wouldn't work but two days later Mike Cook had transferred to a new school and his three best friends/cohorts never bothered anyone again.

Alex shook herself out of her thoughts as she quickly climbed into the shower. She stood under the warm spray for a few minutes, her eyes closed, basking in the warmth of the water. Then she quickly washed and conditioned her hair and gave her body a quick scrubbing. Then she rinsed thoroughly and climbed out.

She wiped the condensation of the mirror and stared at her reflection again. The girl staring back at her had hair that was clumped together in strands, looking brown with the moisture, and had a healthy looking flush from the warm water. The shadows under her eyes had even managed to diminish during her shower. Realizing she had wasted more time then she wanted staring at herself she quickly dressed and ran a brush through her hair several times just to make sure it didn't knot up as it air dried. Then she tossed all the dirty clothes into the hamper by the bathroom door on the way out.

She bounded downstairs to wait for people to show up with Jack. They sat and talked quietly in French to each other, practice for Jack who was still learning the language. Alex was fluent already. Jack already knew English and Spanish and was interested in Italian after she learned French. Jack joked that it opened up new possibilities for boyfriends if she knew more languages.

Alex just liked the fact that she wasn't limited to staying in places that spoke only English. She was currently fluent in Spanish, French, German, and Russian. She was decent in Italian and Japanese- enough to understand if not reply in the given language. Languages were Alex's hobby if she was honest with herself. She loved being able to be self-sufficient in foreign places and hated to rely on translators who could misquote things said instead of saying the exact wording.

Alex milled around most of the morning and afternoon. She let people tell her how sorry they were about her uncle's death, tell her how if she needed anything just ask, and give her casseroles to make her feel better (of course, she threw said casserole out after Mrs. Harpens left...). Around 4 o'clock someone from the bank came calling. His name was John Crawley. He had one of those bland forgettable faces, the one's you forget while you're looking straight at them. He wore the normal banker clothes. A charcoal gray three piece suit with a bland lighter gray tie. He was about 5'10'' tall, his hair was thinning and his eyes had a spark that confused Alex, it looked something like knowing.

He had promised to take care of everything and that Alex shouldn't worry herself over what was going to happen now that Ian was gone.

After Crawley left Alex milled around trying to distract herself. Eventually she took to practicing her karate kata in her room with her door shut firmly. She would've went downstairs and played snooker on her uncle's table but she just didn't have the patience to stay still long enough to aim. She had the jitters. She was nervous about something not even she knew. She ran through her katas until six o'clock when she was called down for supper.

She eventually asked Jack if they should look in Ian's study. Jack had told her not today and she let the subject drop. She had never been allowed in there, without Ian at least. When she was much younger she thought something spectacular must be there, a door to another world or a time machine.

The funeral was held on a warm Wednesday afternoon. Alex hadn't gotten much sleep, the whole week, the bags under her eyes were closer to the color of her mourning dress than anything else. She looked horrible. She felt even worse. She felt the tears rise to her eyes and she let a couple fall. She wouldn't all out cry in front of all of these people but she was a girl damn it and she could cry if she wanted to.

About thirty people had turned up, besides her and Jack, but she hardly recognized any of them. One she did recognize was Crawley, from personal, as he had introduced himself. Ian's grave had been dug close to the lane that ran through the cemetery, and as the service began a black Rolls-Royce drew up, the back door opened and a man got out. He walked forward and stopped and Alex couldn't suppress a shiver. There was something off about the man and it made her skin crawl. Yet, the man was ordinary to look at. Gray suit, gray hair, gray lips, and gray eyes. His face was blank and his eyes behind the square, gunmetal spectacles, was completely empty.

Maybe that was what disturbed Alex. Whoever he was he seemed to have less life than anyone at the cemetery, above or below ground. Alex nearly jumped when Crawley tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear. "That's Mr. Blunt, he's the chairman of the bank."

Alex's eyes skimmed over Blunt again and locked onto the Rolls Royce. Two more men had come with Blunt one of them driving. They were wearing identical suits and although it wasn't a very sunny day, sunglasses. Frankly, they looked like people from the Men In Black movies. Both were watching the funerals with a grim expression. Alex's eyes darted from the men to the rest of the people at the funeral. Had they really known Ian Rider? Why hadn't she met them before? And why did she find it so hard to believe her uncle worked at a bank?

"...a good man, a patriotic man. He will be missed." The vicar had finished his graveside address.

Alex found his word choice odd. Patriotic? That meant one love their country. Ian was hardly in the country, if he loved it so much why did he spend so much time taking Alex on vacations in other countries? And he certainly wasn't one to wave the Union Jack around.

Alex looked around hoping to find Jack, but instead he saw Blunt heading her way, stepping carefully around the fresh grave.

"You must be Alexandria." The chairman was only a few inches taller than her. Up close his skin was strangely plastic looking, almost like he was made of wax. "My name is Alan Blunt. Your uncle spoke a great deal about you." He said.

"That's funny." Alex stated. "He never mentioned you."

The gray lips twitched briefly as if he was fighting a smile. "We will miss him. He was a good man."

"What was he good at?" She asked. "He never talked about work."

Suddenly Crawley was back. "Your uncle was overseas finance manager, Alex. He was responsible for our foreign branches. You must have known that." Crawley stated.

"I know he traveled a lot." Alex allowed. "And I know he was very careful, about things like seat belts." The second part had a light tone of accusation that even she was surprised to hear.

"Well, sadly, he wasn't careful enough." Blunt's eyes, behind thick lenses of his glasses stared into her own and she suddenly felt like she had been thrust on stage with no instructions and thousands of people hollering for her to do something.

"I hope we meet again." Blunt continued tapping the side of his nose knowingly with a single gray finger. "Yes." He turned and headed back towards his car.

That's when she saw it. As Blunt was climbing into the Rolls-Royce, the driver leaned over the center console to open the door for him. The driver's jacket fell open revealing a stark white shirt underneath which only highlighted the dark black shape pressed against it. The man had a holster with a black automatic pistol strapped inside. Realizing what had happened the man quickly sat up straight and pulled the jacket shut. Blunt had seen what happened too. He turned and looked at Alex, an indescribable emotion slithered across his face for a second but was gone much too fast for her to even guess at what it was. The he slipped into the car, shut the door, and the car was gone.

A gun at a funeral. Why? And what sort of bank managers carried guns anyway?

"Let's get out of here," Jack was suddenly there by her side. "Cemeteries give me the creeps."

"Yes. And quite a few creeps have turned up." Alex muttered under her breath as she followed Jack out of the cemetery.

The car that drove them to the funeral was still parked where they had gotten out of it, but they preferred the open air. The walk home took a little over fifteen minutes. Alex wasn't really used to wearing heels, she rarely had reason to, she was tall for her age. Hell she was tall for her gender, at 5'7'' it was hard for anyone to say she was short. As they turned the corner onto their street. Alex noticed the moving van parked in front of their house. It was marked STRYKER & SON.

"What's that doing...?" Alex started but as if the people in the van had heard her it accelerated rapidly and whipped around the corner out of sight.

Alex said nothing more as Jack unlocked the door and went into the kitchen to make tea, but she quickly looked around the house and noticed little changes. A letter that had been sitting on the hall table was now on the carpet. A door that was slightly opened was now closed. A book that had been on the couch was now on the table...She was almost positive someone had been in their house. She wasn't positive until she got to the third floor.

The third floor was devoted to Ian Rider's office.

Ian's office, which had once been stuffed full of papers, books, and folders was now startlingly bare. Whoever had been here had taken anything and everything relating to Ian's job. Which she was starting to believe wasn't really banking at all.

She looked in the room a few more moments but silently shut the door when Jack called her down for supper.

Someone hadn't wanted them to read what was in Ian Rider's office and she was going to find out why, even if it was the last thing she did.

**A/N: Okay so I know a bunch of people have done these before but I really wanted to give it a shot. Drop me a review if you like. If you don't like, don't read. Simple as that. I accept constructive criticism. I do not accept flames or people insulting my writing. **


	2. Heaven for Cars

Chapter Two: Heaven for Cars

Alex stopped pedaling and stood up on her bike pedals, drifting down the hill through the red light into the yard of Brookland School. The bike was a Condor Junior Roadracer, custom built for her as a twelfth birthday gift and shipped from somewhere in China. It was dark blue, Alex's favorite color and was one of the only gifts she had accepted from Ian Rider as a bribe.

It was mostly given so she would forgive him for missing her birthday. It worked, somewhat, she had only been mad at him for a week instead of the two months it normally would've been. She would be sad when she finally out grew her bike. It was in very good condition, Alex had learned how to maintain it by herself via the internet and some helpful youtube videos. She swung off it lightly as it was still coasting towards the shed and stepped onto the ground lightly and kept leading the bike into it's normal spot. She double locked it and headed towards the school.

Brookland was a modern school. Made mostly of red brick, it was rather ugly; if she had to give it a rating based on appearances, on a scale of one to ten, it would register a lowly 3. She could have gone to one of the many private schools, including an all girl's school but Ian Rider had shot that idea down telling her this school would be more challenging.

First period of the day was Maths*. Mr Donovan was the teacher and he was already writing out complicated equations on the board. It was sweltering in the room, the floor to ceiling windows were facing the sun and were getting quite a bit of that today. The designers of the school should have known better. Alex sat in her normal seat toward the back of the classroom.

Her thoughts were racing in her head, many of them abandoned before she could even think about how stupid they were, most of them however were centered on the gun at the funeral and the way Mr. Alan Blunt had acted. Was that his normal behavior? Or was he acting that way for her benefit? But she also was focusing on Ian's supposed way of death. Ian always wore his seat belt. If she could only see his car for herself... She sighed softly as she tried to focus on her teacher.

"-andria will you please open the window?" She caught the tail end of his question and stood and pried open the window. She was the only one in the class whose name ended in "andria", heck she was the only one in the whole school whose name ended that way.

"Thank you, Alexandria."

Alex hid a flinch. She hated hearing her whole name. It made her feel like she was in trouble. She preferred "Alex" or even "Lex", "Lexia", "Andy", "Dria", or "Xandria". Most of her friends had different ways of calling her name. Tom always used "Lex", Jack always used "Alex", Ian had usually called her either "Alex" or "Dria", and other friends at school used a variety of the whole list of them.

She managed to get through the rest of the day but she didn't even bother to pay attention in Spanish, or French. She was already fluent in both anyway and they mostly were learning vocab.

Her mind was made up. When everyone else was streaming out of the school like they were fish migrating upstream, Alex headed to the secretary's office in order to borrow a copy of the Yellow Pages.

"What are you looking for?" The secretary, Miss Bedfordshire had always had a soft spot for Alex.

"Auto Junkyards." She mumbled back absently immersed in her actions. "If a car got smashed up near Old Street, they'd take it somewhere close, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose."

"Here..." Alex finally flipped to the yards listed under "Auto Wreckers." But there were dozens of them trying desperately to stick out over the length of four different pages.

"Is this for a school project then?" Miss Bedfordshire asked sounding like she was sure it wasn't.

"No. A personal project. The police said my uncle died in a car crash. I find it really hard to believe because he always wore his seat belt. I just want to see the car so I can finally let go." Alex let fake tears build up in her eyes looking like she was ready to cry.

Miss Bedfordshire was instantly sympathetic and Alex felt really bad about manipulating her like that. It had been one of the many things Ian had taught her. Along with how to act like a different gender and pickpocket.

Alex went back to looking through the pages, Miss Bedfordshire silently let her work. After another couple of minutes the secretary reached out and pointed to a name and address on the top right corner. "This one's near Old Street." she said.

"Wait!" Alex said tugging the book closer so she could read the smaller print underneath the one Miss Bedfordshire had pointed at was a familiar name:

J.B. STRYKER. AUTO WREAKERS

Heaven for Cars

CALL US TODAY

"That's near Vauxhall, not far from here." the secretary spoke up.

"I know." Alex agreed. J.B. Stryker. Stryker & Son. Was that just a coincidence? Unlikely. Ian had always told her that rarely anything was coincidence. He had been very paranoid. She remembered how he had run nearly a dozen background checks on Jack before he hired her. Alex had caught him at about five of them but managed to get him to admit he had done more.

"I'll see you later, Miss Bedfordshire." Alex said as she hefted her backpack onto her back.

"Good luck, and be careful." She warned. She wondered why she had said the last bit but the phone rang several seconds later and she forgot Alex to do her job.

J.B. Stryker's was a plot of wasteland behind the railroad tracks running out of Waterloo Station. It was inclosed by high brick walls topped with barbed wire and broken glass. The only opening visible was two wooden gates that were swung wide open. From the opposite side of the street Alex could see the security guard sitting in a shed with a security window reading a newspaper: The London Times. Beyond that were piles and piles of rusting, wrecked remains of dead and broken cars. In the background, unseen, a bulldozer coughed to life, then roared, a metal claw was the only visible part as it smashed through an old Ford Taurus' window and lifted up to carry it away to it's demise.

A telephone rang in the shed and that was all Alex needed. She wheeled her bike along beside her as she hurriedly slipped through the open gate and slipped a little bit farther down the wall to stick her bike for safekeeping.

She was surrounded by filth and she was very glad that Ian had got rid of her aversion to muck and dirt years ago. She had been noodling which was fishing for catfish with your bare hands, in a bog somewhere in Oklahoma in the United States of America. How that information was ever going to help her in real life she wasn't sure but she was sure Ian wouldn't have taught her if it wasn't important. At the very least it would make an interesting story for any children and grandchildren she had.

She watched for several minutes, well out of the guard's sight as the crusher did it's job and shuddered at the look of it. She didn't like how it got rid of the cars so well with no evidence remaining. Finally drawing her attention away from the monstrous machine she went looking for Ian's car.

She was beginning to lose hope when she saw it. Ian's BMW was parked a few yards away. Her first thought was that there was no way that it had been in any accident let alone a fatal one. The silver paint wasn't even scratched. It was definitely her uncle's car though, she recognized the license plate.

She made her way to the other side and froze. It wasn't undamaged at all. But there was no way the damage was from a car accident. It was obvious to see what had killed Ian Rider even to someone who had never seen something like it before. A spray of bullets from a sub machine gun had hit the car full on it's side, smashing the windshield and both driver's side windows, and punching into the metal body. Alex ran her fingers over the bullet holes. The metal was cold to the touch. She peered in the window and looked at the destruction on the inside. The belt was cut as if no one had wanted to reach over the dead body to unfasten it. And the brown stains that spread over the pale gray leather needed no explanation.

But why kill a bank manager? And why cover it up?

"You should have gotten rid of it two days ago. Do it now." The machines must've been shut off for a blessed minute. Otherwise she would have never heard them coming. Two men were walking toward her. The didn't see her yet but how much longer did she have? A few seconds at most. She looked around for a hiding place. There was nowhere besides inside Ian's ruined car. It was in an open section and she should have been more careful about approaching the damn thing in the first place.

She recognized one of the men now. They were wearing loose fitting overalls but she could never forget how one of them had leaned across a center console in a Rolls-Royce revealing a gun at her uncle's funeral.

They were only a few paces away now. Alex shook her head, there was nothing for it. She threw herself into the back door of the car, laying flat and used her foot to hook the door handle and shut it gently behind her just seconds before the mens' shadows passed over her. She breathed lightly and quickly crawled forward and opened the opposite door and started to ease herself out.

There was a jolt like an earthquake as claws pierced the window inches from her face but managing to scrape her head. She yelped throwing herself forward out of the car and landing hard on an old VW Bug that looked like it had once been red a long time ago before the rust had over run it. She felt the sharp metal cut into her leg and winced. At least she had just had her tetanus shot not three weeks ago and at least it was her left favored her right leg in a fight. She got to her feet quickly as the man operating the bulldozer raised the alarm.

The men from before hurried back towards her and she ducked behind a pile of cars as she ran towards her bike and the exit. As she swung around a pile that was obscuring the exit she saw the man from the funeral there. He noticed her and reached into his jacket, for the gun.

She reacted instantly. Eight years of Karate and Judo came into play. One day Ian had took her to a local club and left her, surrounded by boys, ready to learn karate as the only girl in the group. She had reached first-grade Dan, a black belt, before any of the boys, even the older ones that had been there a while, just a year and a half ago. She had since moved up to second grade Dan just three weeks ago. Which meant her belt was black with a two yellow stripes on it.

When she arrived at Brookland her soft looks had made her desirable to the school bullies. The bullies- three hulking sixteen-year olds, had managed to corner her behind the bike shed. And when they tried to force her to go out with them, well let's just say the two that were still in school were still singing soprano and the other had transferred far away. It had taken her less than a minute to beat all of them.

Now Alex brought up her good leg and twisted her body around and lashed out. The back kick, also known as Ushirogeri, is called the most lethal move in karate. Her foot powered into the man's solar plexus. His eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open in both surprise and in need to drawl in more air. Then, hand still reaching for his weapon, he folded and collapsed to the ground.

Alex jumped over the man and grabbed her bike. And hurriedly pedaled towards the exit.

"Stop!" Was called after her. Then there was a crack and a bullet whipped past creating a ruler straight line across the part of her shoulder that linked her neck and her shoulder. She yelped loudly and pedaled harder swerving somewhat back and forth to make aiming harder. She whipped around the corner but there were no more gun shots. She looked over her shoulder cautiously. No one had followed her.

With a sluggishly bleeding leg, a vigorously bleeding temple, and a steadily bleeding shoulder/neck she must be a sight. But thinking back to how the bulldozer had lifted the car she had still been in, and about the crusher, not to mention how the bullet had grazed her should/neck.

It could've been worse. It could have been much, much worse.

**A/N: It's starting to differ already. So what do you think?**

*** Maths is a British term, I'm pretty sure. I'm American though so correct me if I got that wrong.**


	3. Royal & General

Chapter Three: The Royal and General

She had been forced to make up a story for Jack when she got home. Jack didn't ask many questions after Alex had begged her to "just help me already before I bleed out all over the carpet".

The bank called the following morning.

Alex had been struggling to slip her backpack on in a way that didn't rub against her recent battle wound.

"This is John Crawley. Do you remember me? I'm personal manager at the Royal and General Bank. We were wondering if you could come in." It was a statement not a question. They were telling her to come in. Not asking her.

"Come in?" Alex asked trying to buy herself time to find a way to think herself out of it.

"This afternoon. We found some paperwork of your uncle's. We also need to talk to you about your own position." There was something vaguely threatening in the man's voice. Was this about the bullet she hadn't managed to completely dodge?

"What time this afternoon?" She asked.

"Could you manage half past four? We're on Liverpool Street. We can send a cab-" He started.

"I'll be there." She said. "And I'll take the tube." She hung up on him.

"Who was it?" Jack asked.

Alex was beginning to worry. Jack wasn't getting her wages because Ian was dead and Alex wasn't able to access the account until she reached either 18 or was emancipated. She only had her own money to buy food and pay for the running of the house. Worse still, her visa was about to expire. Soon she wouldn't even be allowed to stay in the country.

"Just the bank. I have to go in this afternoon."

"Do you want me to come with."

"No!" Alex answered hastily. If she was going to be shot at she didn't want Jack in the line of fire. "I'm going to take the tube from school." She quickly covered.

She hurried back upstairs and stuffed a pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt into her backpack. There was no way she was going there in a skirt. Especially after she had nearly been shot in the neck by a bullet last time she went anywhere vaguely near anything of her uncle's. She was late but she showed the teacher her bandaged leg and he let her off the hook.

Alex arrived at the Royal & General Bank just after four-twenty that afternoon. She had changed her clothes in the girl's lavatory before riding her bike to Tom's house and taking the tube that was only three streets down from there.

The Royal & General occupied a tall, antique-looking building with a Union Jack fluttering from a pole fifteen floors up. There was a brass plating with the name of the bank near the door. She knew she was making a mistake. But either she went to them or they came after her. She'd rather have Jack out of firing range. After all she was shot at last time. She would have a permanent scar as soon as it healed. She unconsciously reached up to touch the bandage.

She shook her head and entered the building.

On the seventeenth floor, the chairman of the bank was watching a closed circuit TV with a rather potato headed woman.

"So she came." He muttered to himself. He wasn't sure after Yaxley* had managed to clip her when he shot at her, he was supposed to miss entirely but his aim had been shake. He had been subsequently demoted to a paper pusher until he went for remedial training.

"That's her?" The middle aged, potato headed woman asked. She was dressed in a gray suit like Blunt but was also sucking on a peppermint. "Are you sure about this, Alan." she asked.

He nodded. "Quite sure. You know what to do?" He asked the driver who was also in the room.

The driver was standing uncomfortably, slightly hunched over. His face was chalky white and had been since Alex had kicked him in the junkyard. "Yes sir" he managed to say.

"Then do it." Blunt ordered not taking his eyes off the TV screen.

Alex was sitting on a leather sofa, uncomfortably waiting for John Crawley who she had asked for at the front desk. She didn't like the feel of the leather. She had used to like it but for now it was only reminding her of how close she had come to being crushed alive in the car crusher.

The room she was in was bland. It could have belonged to any bank, hospital, concert hall or cruise liner around the world. It had no personality of its own.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Alex. Have you come straight from school?" He asked appearing once again quietly. Alex had barely even heard him approaching from his back left side. She had tensed slightly as he stood behind her injured neck and vaguely wondered if he had noticed the minute tensing.

She nodded lightly. She had changed out of her uniform so that wasn't going to answer her question for her.

"Let's go up to my office." Crawley said. "We''ll take the elevator."

Alex barely hid her flinch at that idea. Being stuck in a small room with a person who could kill you there without people even knowing didn't sound very good to her.

She none the less followed as ordered. She didn't know that a fourth camera was hidden in the elevator along with an heat sensor that would detect cold metal- something like a gun or knife. The camera had passed the information down that she was unarmed and the elevator can continue to its destination undeterred.

"Here we are." Crawley smiled and herded Alex into a long corridor with wooden floors and the same artificial lighting as her school had. The doors were separated by brightly colored abstract paintings and as she passed one she blinked as she saw a shape take form an M and an I and a weird shaped lower case "b" that was curved like a number instead of a letter. She blinked and it was replaced by a slanted building that was falling down. She shook her head. MIb (Men In Black) what was she thinking. This place didn't look like it housed any aliens and why would they even bother to bring her here if they were just going to wipe her memory?

As they passed the next door Alex stopped. Each door had a nameplate and this one was labeled 1504: Ian Rider.

Crawley nodded sadly. "Yes this is where your uncle worked. He will be much missed."

"Can I go inside?" She asked unconsciously wrapping a finger with a little piece of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

"Why would you want to do that." He sounded surprised but the look on his face was definitely faked. So they wanted her to check out the room. But why?

"I'd be interested to see where he worked." Alex lied fluently. It was one of the many skills her uncle had taught her. Instead of scolding her for lying when she was younger he scolded her for not lying well enough.

"I'm sorry." Crawly fake sighed. "The door will have been locked and I don't have the key. Maybe some other time." He waved her toward the door next to Ian's, this one labeled 1505: John Crawley.

They went into the room. It was large, square, and bare. It had a desk and a chair, a couple of black leather sofas, a mini fridge in the corner and a couple of print outs on the walls. A boring office for a boring executive.

"Please, Alex. Sit down." Although it was worded politely enough it was obviously an order from a man that was used to giving them and having them followed. She perched on the very edge of one of the sofa cushions. It wasn't comfortable but she'd rather be able to run if she had to.

Outside the window a flash of red caught her attention. The Union Jack was billowing in the breeze just outside the window.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked

"Do you have Coke?" Alex asked allowing herself an indulgence. Her favorite drink was Coke, but she rarely let herself have it. She felt it made it taste better when she went without it for a long time in between drinks but that was just her.

"Yes." Crawley opened a can and poured it into a glass and handed it to Alex. "Ice?" He asked politely.

"No, thank you." Alex returned equally as politely as she took a sip. It wasn't Coke. It wasn't even Pepsi. She recognized the sweet, slightly cloying taste of supermarket Cola and wished she'd asked for water instead. She hid a grimace easily.

"So what do you want to talk to me about." Alex asked setting the glass down on the side table.

"Your uncle's will..." He started but was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"Excuse me." He asked as he picked up the phone and spoke for a few moments then hung up again. "I'm very sorry Alex. I have to go back down to the lobby. Do you mind?"

"Go ahead." She said leaning back on the sofa slightly to indicate that she'd stay put.

"I'll be about five minutes." With a final nod of apology, Crawly left.

Alex waited several seconds then dumped the rest of her Cola into the fake potted plant and stood up. He went back to the door of 1504 only to find that Crawley hadn't been lying. Of all the days to forget bobby pins. Defeated she headed back into Crawley's office. As she entered the flag waving caught her attention again.

She would've given almost anything to be let into Ian Rider's office for five minutes, alone. Someone obviously thought there was something important enough to break into their house and steal all work related papers. Maybe whatever was in Ian Rider's office would tell him why. What exactly had Ian been doing to get murdered?

Alex moved over to the window and looked out. As she had thought earlier, the flag was situated between Crawley's office and Ian's office. This seemed too good to be true. She hesitated. The jump would be dangerous to be sure, but it wasn't impossible, it wouldn't even be all that difficult. She did harder things in gymnastics but of course in gymnastics she had a net to catch her if she fell. If she fell here they would have to scrape her off the sidewalk. It was a stupid idea. It wasn't worth thinking about.

She opened the window and crawled out. It was better not to think about it at all and just do it.

Alex lowered herself onto the ledge outside of Crawley's office and clung with his hands behind him clutching the windowsill. She breathed deeply one more time then jumped.

A camera across the road caught the action and fed a live show back to the seventeenth floor, Mr. Blunt's office.

"The girl's extraordinary." Blunt chuckled humorlessly.

"The girl's quite mad." The woman rebuked.

"Well, maybe that's what we need."

"You're just going to sit here and watch her kill herself."

"I'm going to sit here and hope she survives."

Alex had miscalculated the jump. She missed the pole by an inch and would've fallen to her death if she hadn't grabbed the Union Jack on her way down. She wound her hands into the material more securely and with great pains pulled herself up so she could climb onto the pole itself.

She didn't look down. And she sincerely hoped no passersby looked up. She crouched then flung herself to the next window. She landed perfectly and carefully pulled the window open (she had only just now thought of the horrid possibility that the window might've been locked too) and slipped into the office.

She looked at her watch. She only had about three minutes of the five that Crawley said he would be gone. She hurried over to Ian's desk and glanced at the pictures and felt a small stirings of triumph. She had been right, Ian was more sentimental then he pretended. There were two photos. One of her as a seven year old wearing a karate outfit with her orange belt. The second was of her and Ian dressed in scuba gear off the coast of the Caribbean Island of Guadeloupe from last summer.

She turned away from the pictures and opened the desk quickly she found several folders she skimmed. Her photographic memory memorizing it all, she would go over it later. There was one on Poisons, one on assassinations, one on interrogation, one on counter terrorism, one on the transport of uranium across Europe and finally one labeled STORMBREAKER. She flipped it open and flipped through several pages before she heard the door click as it was unlocked she flipped more rapidly trying to get as much of it in her memory as possible. She would process the information later tonight, probably when she was asleep.

The door opened and two men walked in. One was Crawley. The other was the man from the junkyard she had kicked. She wasn't surprised that the men weren't surprised. Just as she had thought. Crawley had wanted her to see in here.

What he probably didn't realize was she had photographic memory and would remember everything she even glanced at.

"This isn't a bank." She accused. Sliding the folder closed softly hoping they wouldn't be able to tell where she had read to. "Who are you? Was my uncle working for you? Did you kill him? Why did you have one of your men shoot me at the junkyard?"

"The shooting you was an accident on the part of the agent involved. He has been demoted. As for the rest of your questions, I'm not authorized to answer them."

The man that had been kicked by Alex raised his gun. She quickly took in that it was a different model than he had last time. She dropped the file and stood hurriedly stepping around the chair and back.

"What are you going to-" Alex started as she tried to back away.

The man fired. It made a spitting sound completely different from that of a real gun. And she felt something slam into her chest, completely different than the feel of the bullet that had hit her in the neck/shoulder juncture. She looked down and saw a feathered dart sticking out from her chest. She felt her eyes slid closed first then her legs buckled and she twisted and fell backwards into nothingness.

'They used a tranquilizer on me' was her last thought before blackness completely claimed her.

**A/N: So what do you guys think? Review please?  
**

*** Guess where this name comes from.  
**


	4. So what do you say?

Chapter Four: "So what do you say?"

Alex opened her eyes. So they hadn't drugged her to drag her off and murder her somewhere far away from the bank. That was a relief.

She was laying in a large bed, in a very spacious room. The bed was modern, but the room was old. Elizabethan, if she guessed right. She hadn't liked Shakespeare much, he was too much of a sexist for her to actually like his work. But she had learned something from being forced to have that god awful book preserved in her memory banks for eternity.

She was somewhere in the country. There was no sound of traffic and she could see trees out the large bedroom window.

Someone had undressed her. That was very creepy. A few men drugged her then changed her clothes. She shuddered, hoping desperately it was a female who changed her. She looked outside. Judging by the lighting she would guess it was mid-morning. Looking at the digital clock the numbers 12:01 glowed back at her. So it was noon. She had been shot with a tranquilizer at around half past four so she had lost about eleven and a half hours.

She stood up and padded barefoot around the room. She tried the one door and it was locked but the second door was unlocked and it led to a bathroom so she didn't count the locked door as a total defeat. She looked around quickly and found the closet which was full of her clothes from her house. Now that was creepy. Who in the world would sneak into someone's house to steal their clothes after kidnapping them in the first place? Did they sneak in or did they feed Jack some sort of lie to get her to let them in?

Maybe that MIb thing she had saw earlier had some promise. Maybe they were aliens trying to abduct her or something. She grabbed some clothes and headed into the bathroom locking it firmly behind her. Bad enough someone had undressed her, they didn't need to see her shower too.

She stripped and let the clothes drop to the floor then she carefully unwound both bandages. The cut on her head had scabbed over and she hadn't bothered to bandage it. She looked in the mirror so she could examine her should/neck juncture more clearly. The graze had scabbed over slightly so that was good. Hopefully it would be healed in about two weeks or so. She would have a scar but it wouldn't be the worst scar to have. At least she didn't get hit somewhere else and at least it was only a graze.

She looked at her leg. It was fine. She had thoroughly cleaned that wound, she had used two whole bottles of Hydrogen Peroxide. She had then used antiseptic cream and bandaged it firmly. She turned on the shower and waited a couple seconds for the water to warm up before stepping directly under the spray. She sighed and gently washed her hair wincing when she accidentally prodded the scab on her head open. She rinsed more cautiously careful not to get shampoo into the now open cut. She gently washed her neck then her leg then quickly washed the rest of her. Then she got out. She towel dried quickly before putting on her undergarments and then searched through the bathroom for the first aid kit. She found a mini first aid kit in the compartment behind the mirror and took it down. She gently used a few cotton balls to clean the wounds more thoroughly and then bandaged it quickly if not unsteadily.

She slipped her shirt on being careful not to move her neck to much encase she pulled the skin and caused the scab to break. Then she hurriedly bandaged her leg as well and slipped her sweat pants. She didn't want to chance jeans rubbing the bandage and causing it to rip the scab open.

She tousled her hair with the towel a little more vigorously than need and ran a brush through it quickly taking the knots out of it. Then she padded out to the bed to put her socks and shoes on.

About five minutes after she got her shoes on a knock sounded and then seconds later an young Asian woman in nurses' uniform entered beaming.

'Wow. Ever heard of waiting for an answer.' Alex thought irritably.

"Oh, you're awake. And dressed. How are you feeling? Not to groggy, I hope. Please come with me. Mr. Blunt is expecting you for lunch." She said not letting Alex get a word in edge wise.

'I'm glad she's so concerned about the fact a bank chairman had a young girl shot with a tranquilizer. It's nice to know there are some decent people out there.' Alex thought to herself following the nurse mulishly. 'At least a man didn't undress me.' She decided optimism was the only way she was going to be able to keep from punching someone.

She was led down a flight of stairs into a beautiful dinning room with a long polished wooden table set for three.

Alan Blunt and a rather masculine looking woman sucking on a peppermint were already seated. Mrs. Blunt? Not likely. Blunt didn't seem like a person able to date let alone marry anyone.

"Alexandria." Blunt smiled briefly as if it were physically painful to hold it longer than three seconds. "It's good of you to join us."

Alex sat down. "You didn't give me much choice. And call me Alex. Alexandria makes me feel like I'm in trouble." She ordered firmly not even caring who the man was.

"Yes. Well, I don't know what Crawley was thinking having you shot like that. I suppose it was the easiest way. And if you insist I will call you Alex." Blunt agreed. "May I introduce my colleague, Mrs. Jones." He continued gesturing to the woman next to him.

The woman nodded in acknowledgement, and her eyes seemed to study her like a fascinating bug under a microscope.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Alex demanded once more.

"I'm sure you have many questions but first, let's eat." Blunt must've pressed a hidden button or someone was waiting for a cue because a door open and a waiter came out carrying three plates.

"I hope you like meat." Blunt continued. "Today it's carre'd'agneu."

"You mean roast lamb." Alex stated.

"The chef is French."

Alex waited until the food had been served. Blunt and Jones had red wine with theirs. She stuck with water. She poked her food, a bit and took a small bite before her stomach turned unpleasantly with nerves and she put her fork down.

Finally Blunt began. "As I'm sure you've gathered the Royal and General is not a bank. In fact it doesn't exist...it's nothing more than a cover. And it follows of course that your uncle had nothing to do with banking. He worked for me. My name, as I told you at the funeral, is Alan Blunt. I am the chief executive of the Special Operations Division of MI6. And your uncle was, for lack of a better word, a spy."

Alex smiled thinly. "You mean like James Bond?"

"Similar. Though we don't go for numbers, double-oh and all the rest of it. Your uncle was a field agent, highly trained and very courageous. He successfully completed assignments in Iran, Washington, Hong Kong, and Havana to name but a few. I imagine this must be a surprise for you."

Alex thought about her uncle and what she knew of him. His privacy. His long absences abroad. And the times he came home injured. A bandaged arm one time, a bruised face another. Little accidents he had claimed. But now it all made sense.

"I'm not shocked." Alex admitted.

Blunt cut a piece of his lamb with surgical precision. "Ian Rider's luck ran out on his last mission." he continued. "He had been working undercover here in England, in Cornwall to be precise, and was driving back to London to report when he was killed. You saw his car in the yard-"

"Stryker and Son," Alex muttered to herself. "Who are they?"

"Just people we hire. We have budget restraints. We have to contract some of our work out. We hire them to clean things up. Mrs. Jones here is our head of operations. It was her who gave your uncle his last assignment."

"We are very sorry to have lost him Alex." The woman spoke for the first time. She didn't sound very sorry at all.

"Do you know who killed him?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No. Not now."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't need to know at this point."

"Alright. My uncle was a spy. Thanks to you he's dead. I found out too much so you knocked me out and brought me here. Where is here by the way?"

"This is one of our training centers." Jones answered. Alex didn't like where this was going. They wouldn't have brought her here without a reason.

"You've brought me here so I won't tell anybody what I know? Is that what this is all about? Because if it is, I'll sign the Official Secrets Act or whatever. But I'd like to go home. This is crazy. I've had enough, I'm ready to get out of here."

Blunt coughed quietly, falsely. "It's not quite as easy as that."

"Why not?" Alex demanded.

"While it's true you did draw attention to yourself both at the junkyard and at our offices on Liverpool Street, and you know what we've said can go no further. The fact of the matter is we need your help, Alex."

"My help?" Alex was sure her voice sounded incredulous. She certainly felt that way. They were the government they were supposed to deal with problems not drag fourteen year old girls to settle their problems.

"Yes, have you heard of a man called Herod Sayle."

Alex's photographic memory flickered on and she remembered everything she read. She was reciting word for word the account from the file before she could stop herself.

**"Herod Sayle was born in complete poverty in the backstreets of Cairo. His father was a failed oral hygienist. His mother took in washing. He had nine brothers and four sisters, all living together in three small rooms along with the family goat. Young Herod never went to school and he should have ended up unemployed, unable to read or write, like the rest of them.**

**"But when he was seven, something occurred that changed his life. He was walking down Fez Street-in the middle of Cairo-when he happened to see an upright piano fall out of a fourteen story window. Apparently it was being moved and it somehow overturned. Anyway, there were a couple of English tourists walking along the pavement underneath and they would both have been crushed-no doubt about it except at the last minute Herod threw himself at them and pushed them out of the way. The piano missed them by an inch. **

**"Of course, the tourists were enormously grateful to the young Egyptian wife and it now turned out that they were very rich. They made inquiries about him and discovered how poor he was ... the very clothes he was wearing had been passed down by all nine of his brothers. And so, out of gratitude, they more or less adopted him. Flew him out of Cairo and put him into a school over here, where he made astonishing progress. He got excellent exam results and-here's an amazing coincidence-at the age of fifteen he actually found himself sitting next to a boy who would grow up to become prime minister of Great Britain. Our present prime minister, in fact. The two of them were at school together. **

**"After school, Sayle went to Cambridge, where he got a degree in economics. He then set out on a career that went from success to success. His own radio station, computer software ... and, yes, he even found time to buy a string of racehorses, although I believe they seldom win. But what drew him to our attention was his most recent invention. A quite revolutionary computer that he calls the Stormbreaker."** (Almost all of the last four paragraphs are word for word from the book.)

Alex recited word for word out of the folder. Then snapped her mouth shut when she saw both Jones and Blunt had dropped their impassive masks to show shock.

"Sorry. Photographic memory. I take it you didn't expect me to know all that?" Alex asked humorously. Nothing was more entertaining than seeing to impassive people imitating a fish and doing a very fine job of it.

"I'm going to assume you know the rest. He sent a letter to the Prime Minister about donating all those computers." Blunt continued.

Alex nodded she had remembered the note. It was worded carefully. Too carefully to be entirely truthful and straightforward as they assumed it was.

"You think he's hiding something." Alex interrupted. She was probably the only one that had ever done that judging by the annoyance that swept across Blunt's features before he blanked his face again.

"But why are you telling me this?" Alex asked. His question was ignored as Blunt went on.

"Quite right. We know Rider had found out something. We need to know what. But since he already caught one spy he'll be on the look out for another. We were thinking of sending a woman in as a secretary or kitchen helper. We need to find out soon. Before the Stormbreakers come on the air, which will be on March 31st."

"It's essential to send someone in to Port Tallon to finish your uncle's work." Mrs. Jones interjected.

"I hope you aren't looking at me." She said smiling queasily, feeling quite sick to her stomach.

"We can't just send in another agent. He'll be expecting that. So we have to trick him." Jones stated.

"We have to send in someone he won't expect and that's how I came up with this idea." Blunt started. "A few months ago a computer magazines ran a competition "Be the first boy or girl to use the Stormbreaker, Travel to Port Tallon and meet Herod Sayle himself" That was the first prize won by a young chap who's apparently some sort of whiz kid when it comes to computers. Name of Felix Lester. Fourteen years old. Same age as yourself. He'd even look a bit like you if you cut your hair. He's expected at Port Tallon two weeks from now."

"Wait!" Alex cried. "You want me to cut my hair, pretend to be a boy, and spy on some rich guy because you can't be bothered to find someone to work in the kitchens?"

Blunt ignored her objections and continued. "You've proven yourself to be brave and resourceful. First at the junkyard...that was a karate kick wasn't it. How long have you been learning karate?"

Alex was silent so Blunt continued.

"And then there was the test of getting into Ian Rider's office. How many people would climb out a fifteenth story window just to satisfy their curiosity? Not to mention your recently revealed photographic memory."

"We're suggesting you work for us. You get two weeks of training then we send you to Port Tallon you stay for a week and report anything suspicious back to us. It's very low risk, all you have to do is keep your eyes and ears open. We send the boy off to Florida or something and you take his place. You'll be in no danger. After all, who expects a fourteen year old girl pretending to be a fourteen year old boy to be a spy?" Jones finishes.

"Three weeks of time is all. All you have to do is report back to us. A chance to make sure these computers are fine and a chance to serve your country. So what do you say?"

Blunt's plate was completely clean at this point. If Alex hadn't put down her utensils a while ago they would've dropped out of her hands in shock. The government had gone mad, crazy, out of their minds.

"No." Alex stated as calmly as she could.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's a stupid idea. You want me a fourteen year old girl who is in fact developing curves to play a teenage boy. And on top of that you want me to cut my hair, the only part of me that I actually have that's really girly. Why don't you get Felix or whatever his name is to do it for you?" Alex asked.

"He won't be as resourceful as you." Blunt stated bluntly.

"He'd be better at playing a boy and he'd be better at computer games. I'm sorry but I don't want to get involved."

"That's too bad." Blunt stated and then his face changed. It was like a plug had been pulled and the human part of him had just gone down the drain.

"We'd better move on to discussing your living conditions then. Like it or not Alex, the Royal and General is now your legal guardian."

"The Royal and General doesn't exist." Alex quoted back angrily.

Blunt ignored her. "Your housekeeper's visa has run out. She'll be sent back to America. I'm afraid we'll have to put your house up for sale and you'll be sent to an all girl's boarding school until you reach majority." Blunt stated.

"You can't do that!" Alex objected harshly.

"I think St. Helen's Institute in Sourbridge. Not a pleasant school but I'm afraid there's nowhere else."

"You're blackmailing me!"

"Not at all."

"But if I agree with what you asked...?"

"You help us, we help you." Mrs. Jones stated.

Alex considered for several seconds. She didn't have a choice. "Fine." She ground out feeling angry tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "You talked about training." He reminded.

"Yes. We'll have a hair dresser meet you before we ship you off to train with the SAS in Brecon Beacons in Wales. You will pretend to be a boy even there. You will have to take showers when the other men are asleep, and you will have to keep your gender hidden at all times from everybody. We have our technician working on a body suit for you so you will pass as a boy easier after training." Mrs. Jones stated.

"Yeah, alright." Alex mumbled unhappily looking down at her plate. The lamb had gone cold by now. Dead meat. Suddenly she felt exactly the same way.

**A/N: Sorry a lot of this is just like the book but I needed to get the cold hard information out of the way so it can change later on in the story line.**


	5. Double oh Nothing and RTI

Chapter Five: Double-oh-Nothing /RTI

For the nth time in the last hour Alex ran her hand through her dramatically shorter hair. She then forced her hands down and clasped them together in her lap and peered through the privacy window of the Rolls-Royce she was riding in. The driver was Crawley. She had been alternating between running her hand through her hair and glaring at the "personal manager" for the past hour.

Finally giving it up as a bad job, her glare obviously wasn't scary enough, she slumped back into her seat and closed her eyes. Oh the joys of long car trips that lead you to your eventual demise. Of course she could be exagerating but she doubted it considering the things she knew about SAS selection. Only about thirty out of two hundred make it to the end.

Not to mention the hardest part of training consisted of RTI (resistance to interrogation) which can last up to 36 hours. She knew instantly she wouldn't last that long. She would have to find a way to escape if she had to go through it. After all, she was a spy not a soldier. She wouldn't be expected to stay caught when she was caught. Plus if she were caught and interrogated it would be more likely for the interrogators to figure out she was a she. That wouldn't be good for anyone involved. Especially her.

She dozed off and on, waking when the Rolls-Royce hit a particularly hard bump or dip, then dozing back off again.

"Rider." Crawley called. Alex woke instantly. She was used to getting up at odd times. Her uncle had used to do it, well she knew why now. He was training her. She slid out of the car carefully ruffling her hair into casual disarray that most boys used. The she checked her reflection discretely in the tinted windows out of the corners of her eyes. Finally she decided that was as good as it was going to get.

Alex followed Crawley as he led the way to her new training officer, then left her with him. She stood straight waiting for the sergeant's judgement.

"I'm not one to question orders, but if I was I would ask what the bloody hell they were thinking sending me children. Do you know where you are boy? This isn't a vacation camp! This isn't dis-ney-land!" The man broke the word into its three syllables and spit them out like they left a bad taste in his mouth. "They've given me twelve days to give you training that should take fourteen weeks. That's not just mad. That's suicidal." He growled.

Alex stayed quiet. She knew better than to speak without permission. She stood at attention waiting for anything he was going to throw at her.

He glared at her waiting for her, or she supposed him to speak, she was after all playing a boy and boys were more likely to back talk than girls.

He glared at her once more before nodding a short sharp gesture she would've missed if she hadn't been watching him closely.

"Nobody has a name here. I have no name. You have no name. You will be referred to as Cub for the duration of your stay. You will refer to me as Sir. You'll be with K Unit. If anyone asks you what you're doing here you'll tell them nothing. Some of the men will resent you being here. Some of them will be hard on you. But you will just have to deal with it. I can make allowances for you, you're a boy not a man. But if you complain, you'll be binned. If you cry, you'll be binned. If you can't keep up, you'll be binned. Between me and you boy this is a mistake and I want to bin you." He was right up in Alex's face now but she kept her face impassive but attentive as she stared straight ahead waiting for a dismissal.

After she was dismissed she joined K Unit and as the Sergeant had said they weren't pleased to have her there. Alex had a sinking suspicion that they would like her even less if she was accidentally revealed as a girl.

There were four of them, all in their mid twenties. They had obviously already bonded as a team and there just wasn't any room for a "bloody schoolboy". They were sitting in companionable silence until she entered.

One of the men, was short and muscular with close cropped black hair and dark brown eyes, he would've been handsome if not for the fact his face was slightly off center due to the fact his nose had been broken in the past and he had a fierce glare on his face. This was the leader. Wolf. He had been reassembling his 9 mm Browning High Power pistol when she walked in. "So who do the bloody hell do you think you are?" He demanded. His voice had a slightly foreign accent. One she didn't recognize.

"Cub." She said bluntly hoping the lack of emotion would make her voice sound lower. If not she could just pass it off as puberty by having her voice break every so often.

"A bloody schoolboy! Do you work with Special Operations?" He persisted.

"I'm not allowed to say." She said as she made her way over to the only free bunk. She sat down. The mattress was just as hard as the frame underneath and despite the cold there was only one thin blanket on the bed. She would be sleeping in her clothes then.

"Look what they sent us. Double-oh-Seven? More like Double-oh-Nothing!" He scoffed at her avoidance of the topic. Unfortunately the name stuck. Double-oh-Nothing was what they called her and always in a cruel babying voice.

The other men in the unit didn't talk to her much at all but they certainly made it clear she wasn't welcome. She was shoved, pushed, prodded, and poked as far away from the group as they could get her without getting in trouble. She ended up not having to hid to take her showers away from the men, it was simple. But she was still cautious.

The other members were Fox, Snake, and Eagle. Both Snake and Eagle smoked. Snake was thin, fair haired and Scottish. Fox was black haired, blue eyed, and would've reminded Alex of Tom if he weren't towering over Alex and glaring at her all the time. He spoke with a Liverpudlian accent and his features were oddly squared. Eagle was a tall and wiry person. Taller than anyone else in the group. His hair was somewhere in between dirty blonde and brown and was cropped messily around his face. He had baby blue eyes that would've looked kind if they hadn't turned to ice every time he looked at her. She figured the rest of the unit, besides Wolf that is, were angry mostly because she made Wolf angry. And when Wolf was angry no one was happy.

Alex allowed herself to be ostracized from the group. It made it easier to hide her gender.

She followed on the fringes of the group, always there yet not a part of it. She learned to read maps, perform first aid, and radio communication. She also was lumped in unarmed combat. And even with her proficiency in Karate and Judo she was knocked to her ass more times then she cared to count. Most of the time it took everything she had to force herself to get back up. She sometimes managed to get a good hit in but she was used to holding back against others at her gym and the rest of the soldiers weren't and they didn't even try to hold back.

She was forced to run through an assault course she lovingly named "the playground jungle gym from hell". The first time she tried to run through she had slipped off a rope into a pit of freezing slime and was forced back to the start by an angry sergeant. The second time she actually managed to make it all the way through, and her time was twenty-five minutes. She managed to cut that down to sixteen point five minutes after a week of running the thing. Gymnastics had helped somewhat but not nearly enough. Secretly she was proud of herself. Even Wolf only managed it in twelve and he was the fastest in the unit.

She was forced on long hikes with a twenty-two pound backpack on her back and forced to keep pace with her impatient unit mates. Most of the time she ended up trailing several meters behind only to get yelled at by the sergeant when she arrived later than her group. One day after a particularly long hike the worst happened.

She was woke up in the middle of the night. A man grabbed her shoulder and yanked her out of bed. He was wearing a cliche bad guy outfit, ski mask and fatigues and his eyes held no compassion at all. She struggled and lashed out trying to work herself into a position to fight. A second "bad guy" came over and grabbed her one arm while the first guy took the other and they dragged her out of the cabin into the freezing cold drizzle. She was dressed in sweatpants and a too large t-shirt and she was barefooted. Her feet were dragged in the cold Wales mud and she vaguely wondered if she was going to get a cold before forcing herself to focus.

The camp had been taken over during the night. That's not possible. If it was taken over the sergeant would've raised the alarms. So it wasn't a forced take over. RTI. Shit! RTI, she wasn't even supposed to get that training. At least she didn't think so. She let her eyes flick around her taking in everything and was surprised to see Wolf being dragged the opposite direction from her looking frightened. He was in boxers and a white t-shirt and also barefooted. This was bad.

She was dragged into an old barn and forced into a single rickety chair stationed under a single bare light bulb. Were these guys trying to break all the cliches?

"Tell us your name." The one in front of me ordered as two others held me in the chair.

"Cub." Alex answered blankly.

"Your real name."

"Nothing." She said bluntly.

"What?" He demanded.

"We have no names." She repeated sergeants words from what seems like a life time ago.

"Looks like we have a smart ass here. And a bloody schoolboy too. What's a bloody schoolboy doing here?"

"Being asked stupid questions." She bit back cheekily. He snarled and then slapped her hard across the left side of her face. The sound echoed in the quiet.

"Don't worry. We have plenty of time to break you of that habit." He sneered. "After all, trash shouldn't talk back to its superiors."

"Then why are you talking." She bit out carefully making sure her tongue stayed clear of her teeth this time. She had managed to bit the tip of her tongue with his last slap. This time the slap came from the right side and she let her head follow through with the momentum.

"Keep running your mouth boy. It'll only make breaking you that much more enjoyable." he sneered at her before looking to the goons on either side of me. "Take him and dump him with the others."

Alex was quietly pulled to her feet and as the group passed the asshole that slapped her, Alex spit at him. The mixture of spit, blood, and phlegm hit him on the chest. He looked like he was ready to slap Alex again but her guards pulled her away quickly. She was thrown unceremoniously into a room with three other people.

"You're a mouthy little shit. We're going to enjoy teaching you manners as well as getting you to spill your guts." One guard sneered down at her. She sneered back and spit at his feet. "And you lack the needed amount of brain cells to do either."

Eagle, Fox and Snake looked up at the fifth unorthodox member of their team in surprise. They only knew Cub as the silent, take-everyone's-shit-and-not-do-anything-about-it member.

The man merely slammed the door shut behind him. Alex heard a bolt slide home.

"This is RTI right?" Alex asked.

"Yeah." Eagle spat. "We tell them anything besides our code names we're binned."

"Who are they?" Alex pressed.

"Green Jackets." Snake answered this time. "They're a local unit. They hate our guts- because they know we're the best. So they really take pleasure in beating the shit out of us."

Damn. British soldiers attacking British soldiers. This was so fucked up.

"We talk, we get thrown out. That's exactly what they want." Snake continued.

"But it's just an exercise, right? They won't cause serious harm will they?" She asked desperately hoping that was the case.

"You think I just slipped?" Fox asked and she noticed the blood on his teeth. He had obviously been punched in the mouth and his lip had gotten caught in between his teeth.

"They can do what they like. One of us winds up in a hospital they can say it was an accident." Snake interjected.

"And accidents happen." Eagle spat in disgust.

The group sat in tense silence for ten minutes then the door was opened up again and Wolf was thrown in. His top half was wet and he had a bruise on the side of his cheek. She idly wondered if a bruise had formed on her skin yet. After all she was hit on both cheeks.

"Those pigs." He rasped sounding horrible. They must've dunked him. Alex realized, held him underwater for a long time before letting him come up for air and asking him the question again. "Those lousy, stinking..." Slowly he pulled himself off the floor. "They laid into me." He sounded surprised. "They were really enjoying themselves."

"Did you tell them anything?" Eagle asked.

"Of course not." Wolf's eyes focused on Alex. "What about you Cub? I bet you told them. I bet you blabbed." He sneered.

"No, I didn't. In fact I went so far as to insult the stupid bastards so they would forget what they were doing." Alex said angrily reaching up to touch her sore face. She winced at her own touch. That was going to bruise phenomenally. Wolf had hated her from the start and had never even given her the benefit of the doubt.

"But you will...and if you blow it, we all blow it because we're a unit and only takes one of us to talk for all of us to get kicked out of here." He sneered ignoring most of what Alex had said.

Alex turned away from him in disgust. "Now what?" she demanded of the rest of them.

"They let us sweat. It might be an hour, or a few minutes but eventually they'll be back for us." Fox said.

Alex ignored him and began searching the room thoroughly. The door was made of a solid metal sheet, fitted into a metal frame and bolted from the outside. The room had a few rotten shelves, a couple of rusting canisters. And there was a single barred window looking out toward the barn where the interrogation had been held. Then she began examining the floor. There was a trench in the middle, square and about half a meter deep. There was a circular plate at the far end and it took Alex several seconds to figure out what it was. A manhole cover.

"What's this?" She demanded.

Wolf ignored her as usual but Fox turned to follow her line of sight.

"There's a drain. Can you help me get the cover off?" She demanded again.

Wolf scowled. "Do you think they'd stuff us in here if there was a drain big enough for us to escape out of."

The drain was too small for a full grown SAS man. However, Alex was a still growing, teenage girl.

"You're adults." She stated simply.

Fox followed his thought process. The Green Jackets had never had to keep a teenager in this place.

Fox and Eagle helped pry the heavy lid off. The tunnel that was revealed was narrow, filthy and dark.

She was starting to wish she hadn't suggested this. But, for the good of the team, and her own secret, she would have to.

"Can you get through?" Fox asked.

She nodded knowing her voice would break if she spoke.

"Here." Snake said, he had produced a small pocket flashlight, and he flicked it on. "You're lucky I always sleep with this in my pocket."

Alex nodded. He must use it to get to the bathroom in the dark. She though to herself.

She took a deep breath and knelt beside the opening. She felt a bit of doubt make its way into her careful facade. Could she really fit?

The Wolf spoke. "Good luck." he said. It was the only thing he had ever said to Alex that wasn't full of contempt.

That made her decision for her. She took a deep breath and slid into the opening. She army crawled herself through the narrow tunnel and was glad that she hadn't started developing in the hips yet or she would've gotten lodged in the narrow space. She breathed evenly feeling claustrophobic in the small dark space. The tunnel was wet and slimy, which made it easier to crawl. The flashlight was clamped between her teeth so she had her hands free to help pull her along the pipe.

She willed herself forward even as she felt nausea building. She had never known herself to be claustrophobic but now she knew she was. She forced a swell of panic back and pushed on. Not letting herself wonder if there wasn't a way out.

When she reached the end she twisted trying to find the way out and nearly panicked when she remembered it took two full grown SAS men to lift the first manhole cover. She took another deep breath and shoved upwards there was a slight movement as the manhole stirred. She shoved again using all the muscle she had built up and with a soft grating sound as it was pushed slightly aside. A wave of fresh night air entered the enclosed space and she pressed the manhole cover aside, letting in a sliver of moonlight. She flicked the switch on the flashlight and slipped it a pocket, she would give it back when she got the rest of her unit free.

She waited listening for any sign of movement before pushing the manhole the rest of the way off and peeking out. There was no one insight. Everyone had disappeared for the moment. She looked down at herself and grimaced. She must look like the monster from the black lagoon. Green slime slid down her clothes and pooled at her feet.

She was in front of the building where the rest of the SAS men were being held and she could see right away it wouldn't be a simple case of unbolting the door. It was padlocked as well. She didn't have anything to pick it and if she broke it she would alert the Green Jackets before they could get away.

Her attention was drawn to a vehicle parked a slight distance away. It was an ugly thing. A rectangular green box perched on six thick rubber wheels. It was the only place with real lighting. Alex hurried over to it crouching slightly even though if any of the men would've bothered to look out all they would've seen was the space above her head.

One window was opened and she allowed herself to eavesdrop on the conversation going on.

"Let's go get back to them." One man exclaimed eagerly.

"Finish your tea. We have all night." The leader replied.

"Let's use the bath." A third voice said "Fill it up with freezing water and try half-drowning the bastards."

"What about the kid. I say we start with him. He'll be easy to break." The first voice said.

"Yeah break his neck." Another different voice replied. A burst of laughter followed this remark.

If anyone had been watching Alex they would've seen anger flash in her brown eyes. But, of course, no one knew Alex was there and that was probably for the better.

She pushed away most of her anger and focused on a way to get rid of the Green Jackets. The break of the vehicle was made of a lever with a button, and a pin that held everything in place. She quickly pulled out the pin but the button was so stiff she had to use both hands and press down on it with the top half of her body weight. There was a loud click as the lever was released. She lowered the lever gently then leaned against the neutral vehicle and with a little shove it began to roll merrily down the slope.

She hurried over to the lock and used a piece of metal and a little leverage to snap the lock off the door. Then opened it.

Wolf was the first one out and he looked around. "Where did they go?" He demanded.

"I think they sloped off." Alex let the pun roll off his tongue knowing Wolf wouldn't have a clue about what he was talking about.

They went back to their bunks for a nice couple hours of sleep only to be woken the next morning by an angry sergeant.

"What did you do!" he yelled angrily. "Two broken legs, a broken collarbone, eleven cracked ribs, and a severe concussion!" He shouted at the group at large. "What did you do?" He yelled.

"Cub?" Wolf turned to look at the youngest member of the unit.

"I didn't do anything. The Green Jackets obviously didn't check their breaks well enough and they just rolled down a hill." Alex denied looking as wide eyed and innocent as a guilty person can be.

"Kitchen Duty. For a week. All of you." The sergeant bit out angrily.

As soon as the sergeant was out of sight the rest of K Unit turned to glare at Alex. She suppressed a sigh. Looks like any chance of respect just went down the tube. She slipped away and went to shower quickly. She finished in five minutes and slipped into a bathroom stall to change. She quickly slipped on her regulation uniform and made sure she looked like a boy still.

She did. She slipped out of the bathroom carrying her dirty clothes with her. She could wash them later.

Four days later she was carrying her weighted backpack with no rations and cursing Alan Blunt in eight different languages, under her breath. She was also cursing Wolf under her breath but not nearly as often as she was cursing Blunt.

Alex was currently doing a survival hike with her unit. Who had gotten far ahead of her some hours ago. Of course, they only had eight hours to complete the course. Allowing for her age, she had been given twelve hours to complete the course. The other members of K Unit had 55 lb bags. Her bag only weighed 22 lbs. If not for the caffeine and sugar tablets she would've crashed a long time ago. Eleven hours on your feet can do that to a person.

This had all started about 26 hours ago. K Unit had been scheduled to go through the Killing House. K Unit had already gone through the house twice minus Cub who was able to watch them on the closed circuit TV that ran through the entire killing house. This was her first time going through the house.

She had mostly been shoved to the back of the group like always but watched the group work almost religiously. It would probably save her life someday, with her current luck. They were just about to exit. Snake, the technician of the group, had just disabled the alarm on the window and had signaled to Wolf that he was done. Fox and Eagle had just knelt to deal with a trip wire when Wolf told them to leave it.

We headed to the window. Snake went first. Then Fox and Eagle. Alex would've been the last one out but just as she reached the window Wolf turned to look at her.

"Tough luck, Double-oh-Nothing." He whispered his voice sounding almost kind then he lashed out with a palm strike to the sternum. She was knocked off balance and twisted trying to avoid the trip wire but it was a hopeless case. She felt the wire collapse under her wrist and then the whole world exploded. There was a blinding flash of white light and a deafening boom, as the shock wave of the stun bomb shuddered through her body.

She curled into a ball covering her head and waited for it to disappear. Only when it did everything else went with it. The light seemed to have taken all the natural light as well, leaving her mostly blind and deaf. That went away soon and she was forced to listen to the Sergeant yell at her.

Sergeant had come and demanded answers but Alex didn't have any for him. It's not like the Unit would believe Wolf would endanger the whole group just for revenge. And it wouldn't do anything in the long run but get her in trouble.

Sergeant had unfortunately caught Wolf smiling and had forced this hike on the Unit as punishment.

She felt the gravel crunch under her feet and was surprised to see a figure in the distance. She hesitated a second before recognizing it as the sergeant. He had just finished lighting his cigarette and was slipping a book of matches back into his pocket.

She stumbled the last couple yards and stopped in front of him.

"Eleven hours, five minutes. Not bad Cub." Sergeant spoke. "But the rest of your unit was here hours ago."

Bully for them. Alex thought angrily but didn't say anything out loud.

"They're up there." He pointed to a sheer wall behind him and Alex felt her throat tighten. No way. She had been rock climbing before with Ian, but never without safety gear and never when she was so exhausted.

"I can't do it." the words were easy to say. They had been a long time coming.

"I didn't hear that."

"I can't do it, sir." she repeated looking straight in his eyes.

"Can't isn't a word we use here." He said.

"I don't care. I just can't do it. I'm not suicidal. I've never climbed a wall like that in the dark, in the rain, with no safety equipment, while I'm exhausted. It's asking for me to fall and break my neck." Alex fell silent after her not so small rant, waiting for the ax to fall, but it didn't.

"Listen Cub. We know what really happened in the Killing House. Wolf forgot about the CCTV." He spoke ignoring her rant.

"Then why-"

"Did you make a complaint against him, Cub?" he cut her off.

"No, sir."

"Do you want to make a complaint against him, Cub?" he asked.

She hesitated for a second before replying. "No, sir."

"That's good. Now that wall isn't as impossible or as dangerous as it looks." His finger traced a suggested path to the top. "K Unit is up there, and they've got cold survival rations. You don't want to miss that."

Alex took a deep breath and walked towards the wall, stumbled and reached out to steady herself on the Sergeant. "Sorry sir." She apologized as she continued toward the wall.

It took her nearly twenty more minutes to reach the top and as the Sergeant had said they were waiting. They were all sitting in between three tents. Two were for two men and the last, smallest was for her.

Snake looked up from his tin of cold stew. "I didn't think you'd make it." his voice was kind, and for once he hadn't called her Double-oh-Nothing.

"Nor did I." Alex admitted softly.

Wolf was crouched over a small pile of tinder trying to make a fire with two flints. But the sparks made were much too small and the nest of newspaper and twigs was much too wet. Eagle and Fox were looking on disappointed.

"These might help." Alex threw the book of matches she had pick-pocketed from the Sergeant down in front of them.

They looked up at her curiously but she just entered her tent.

She was only in the tent for half an hour before she was forced once again to share her teams company.

"How did you get these?" Wolf demanded, his voice was softer than usual though.

"My uncle taught me to pickpocket, before he died." Alex admitted flinching at the fact she had admitted her uncle died. She had been trying to deny in to herself ever since she had heard the news.

"Who'd you steal them from?" Eagle interjected.

"Sergeant. He didn't even notice. He probably won't either. Because they're not really that valuable and they're small he'll assume they fell out of his pocket and were buried in the mud somewhere on the trails. That and he'll never suspect a kid could steal something of his." Alex said the heat of the small fire relaxing her muscles for the first time in twelve hours.

"What makes you think we won't tell him?" Wolf demanded.

"Because. You forgot about the CCTV when you pulled your stunt and I didn't lodge a complaint against you even though the Sergeant knows it was you." Alex shot back and Wolf went pale realizing his mistake.

"What stunt?" Fox demanded.

"What CCTV?" Snake demanded, his accent was heavier now, obviously from anger.

"It's sort of obvious." Eagle interjected. "Wolf obviously set of that grenade in the Killing House escaped and let Cub take the brunt of it." he looked disappointed in his unit mate.

Wolf looked down not answering.

Alex settled down. The awkward silence was killing her slowly. Wolf would be angry at her. He would probably try to get her back for letting his unit know what he did.

She was right. The next two days of her life were worse then the hell they had been up to that point. She was enormously glad she was getting out of there soon. On the third day after their survival hike they were shoved into a plane. The units were going parachuting. Everyone but her. Thank god.

They were nearing the drop site and Alex noticed Wolf's face had been getting steadily paler. Then they were there. The assistant pilot tapped the first pair on the shoulders. Then soon it was the last pair's turn. Wolf would be jumping alone because she wasn't jumping. He looked more than pale now. He approached the open door and hesitated. Something had spooked him about this jump. He looked like he was trying to collect his courage but they didn't have time. The assistant pilot wasn't looking at them at the moment but he could turn around any time. If he saw Wolf there he would be binned.

Alex stood and quietly approached him. He wasn't going to jump. She lashed out with a solid kick to Wolf's back that sent him flying out the door, surprise evident on his face before he managed to turn himself around and pull the cord to slow his decent.

"What are you doing there?" The assistant pilot yelled when he noticed Alex by the door. "Just stretching my legs!" Alex yelled back over the wind.

The rest of the trip was quiet with Alex sitting in the same seat she had been in at the beginning of the trip.

**A/N: Well I think that's enough for one chapter. Tell me what you think. The RTI chapter was based on the bonus chapter of Stormbreaker and you can find it on the internet.  
**

**P.S. Don't expect another chapter this long for a while (or ever). My hands hurt.  
**

**Please review!**


	6. Toys Aren't Us

Chapter Six: Toys Aren't Us

When Alex got back to the base Mrs. Jones was waiting for her. Jones was waiting in her usual gray suit. At first she didn't recognize Alex.

Her hair had been sheared off at a boy's mop, she was wearing a parachuting outfit, but most of all her face was pinched in exhaustion and irritation.

"Alex..."

Alex looked up at her but made no motion to respond. She looked like she had involuntarily responded to her name being called, already having no intention of answering.

"I'm the one who pulled you from the jump. I felt it was too risky. I hope you aren't too disappointed. Sit down, please." Jones said.

It wasn't a suggestion. Alex sat perched at the edge of her chair. Looking ready to flee at a moment's notice.

"I've brought you some toys that might cheer you up." Jones stated.

"I'm too old for toys." Alex rebutted slouching slightly but not leaning back in her chair.

"These aren't really toys." Jones said. And as if called by her last sentence the door opened and the fattest man Alex had ever seen in her life came through the door. When he sat down his bottom overflowed on either side of the chair. He set the metal tray he was holding on the table followed by a shopping bag that read Macy's. He was quite bald and had a large black mustache and several chins. He was wearing a pin striped suit that probably used enough fabric for a tent.

"Smithers." He stated. "Very nice to meet you, lass." The term of endearment didn't fit with his accent. Lass was a endearment usually used by the Irish or Scottish. His accent was London.

"Pleasure." Alex answered softly. After all, it wasn't his fault she was stuck doing this stupid mission.

"What have you got for her?" Jones demanded.

"Yes, of course." He said as if just remembering what he was there for. "First thing," he pulled the bag closer and pulled out a flesh colored bundle. "This is your body suit. It is completely anatomically correct, just in case," He stated seeing Alex's look. "when you put it on the suit will stop at your jawline. There's also some concealer, you just spread it over where the line would be and it will blend it completely. No one will be able to tell that you're anything but a boy. The only problem is during your mission you won't be able to take it off for anything so you're going to feel grimy after a while. It's made out of a blend of Kevlar and other materials. It is light weight and flame retardant, and has a cooling system." He went on for several more minutes on the benefits of the suit.

Finally he seemed to run out of things to say about the suit and moved on to other gadgets. There was a yo-yo that was actually a magnetically motorized with 30 yards of a special type of nylon string which could hold up to two hundred. Then there was zit cream which while harmless when touched with skin would melt a hold through solid steel. Finally there was a game boy color which had four games each with different abilities.

Nemesis turned the game boy into a fax/photocopier with a direct link to MI6. Exocet turned it into a X-ray device that can see through up to two inches and also had an audio function, when the earphones were plugged in. Speed Wars was a bug finder. And Bomber Boy was a smoke bomb that was activated by pressing start three times after leaving the cartridge anywhere in range. It was also possible to play all of the games.

"Thank you, Smithers." Jones said.

"My pleasure, Mrs. J." He returned as he stood up, his legs trembling to support his weight. "I hope I see you again Alex, I've never had to equip a teenage girl pretending to be a teenage boy. I'm sure I will be able to think up a whole host of delightful gadgets." He waddled off and disappeared through a door that clanged shut behind him.

Jones turned to face Alex. "You leave for Port Tallon tomorrow." she handed Alex a folder. "You're going as Felix Lester. The real Felix Lester is in Florida already. You'll find everything you need to know in there."

"I'll read it tonight." Alex assured.

"Good." Suddenly she was serious. Alex vaguely wondered if she was a mother. She would probably have a child her age if that was the case. Jones pulled out a black-and-white photo and laid it on the table facing Alex. The person in the photo was a man. He was wearing a white t-shirt, and jeans. He was in his late twenties, had close cropped light colored hair, a smooth face, and the body of a dancer. The photo was slightly blurred. Most likely taken from a distance with a hidden camera. 'He was very attractive.' Alex admitted to herself. Of course, she probably shouldn't be thinking that because Mrs. Jones wouldn't show her a picture of just anyone.

"I want you to look at this." Jones said needlessly, Alex was already looking.

"I'm looking."

"His name is Yassen Gregorovich. He was born in Russia but he now works for many other countries. He's been hired by Iraq, Serbia, Libya, China and many others."

"What does he do?"

"He's a contract killer. We believe he was the one to assassinate your uncle."

There was a long pause as Alex's stomach turned uncomfortably. She had almost managed to make herself believe this was going to be a simple thing. Play the spy for MI6 then go back to living her life with no more interference from them. But looking at the cold, handsome face (with its blank hooded eyes) of her uncle's possible killer it hit her; this wasn't going to be a simple game, if she lost she would lose more than the game- she would lose her life. She remembered her uncles car, shattered by bullets. A man like Gregorovich, a contract killer, would not hesitate to do the same to her. He wouldn't even blink, she was just another hit.

"This photograph was taken six months ago, in Cuba. It may have been a coincidence, but Herod Sayle was there at the same time. The two of them may have met. And there is something else..." She paused waiting for something. Then continued when she didn't receive the anticipated reaction. "Rider used a code in the last message he sent. A single letter. Y."

"Y for Yassen?" Alex asked wondering if that was what they had assumed.

"He must've seen Yassen somewhere in Port Tallon. He wanted us to know..."

"Why are you telling me now?" Alex asked her throat had grown mysteriously closed.

"Because if you see him, if Yassen is anywhere near Sayle Enterprises, I want you to contact us immediately."

"And then what?"

"We'll pull you out. It doesn't matter how old you are Alex, if Yassen finds out you're working for MI6, he'll kill you too."

She took the photograph back. Alex stood up.

"You leave here tomorrow morning at eight. Be careful Alex. And good luck." she added and Alex turned and walked away.

Alex heard the sound of a peppermint being unwrapped. She was always eating them, and it caused her breath to always smell faintly of mint. How many people had she sent to their deaths? Ian Rider and maybe dozens more. 'Maybe' Alex thought vaguely 'It was easier to live with if her breath was sweet.'

There was a movement ahead of Alex and she turned her attention back to what was in front of her. The parachutists had returned from their jump. They were walking towards her from out of the darkness with K unit and Wolf in the lead. Alex tried to step around them, bag with gadgets, body suit and dossier on Felix Lester in the Macy's bag, but Wolf was blocking her way.

"You're leaving." He stated. Somehow he must've heard Alex's training was over.

"Yes."

Silence prevailed for nearly a minute before Wolf spoke again. "What happened on the plane..."

"Forget it, Wolf. Nothing happened. You jumped, I didn't. That's all." Alex interrupted.

Wolf held out a hand. "I want you to know... I was wrong about you. You're all right. And maybe... one day it would be good to work with you."

Alex had the vague notion Wolf would take that sentence back if he found out she was, in fact, a girl. But instead she said "You never know."

They shook hands.

"Good luck, Cub." Alex realized it was one of the rare times he actually used her code name.

"Good bye, Wolf." She smiled at him slightly. He was all right for an asshole that had made her life hell for the last two weeks. Then she turned and walked out into the night.


End file.
